I cannot get it..

... any of this..


When hart and muscles,

Choose to fight.

I know what I should say...

...how I should behave.

But over ill fated feelings,

Still I slave.

As on my soul I play,

The bitter sweet symphony..


In a macabre kind of way.

And all becomes an antipode,

Of what is right and wrong,


Something I don't pretend

to understand.

But I hope one day,

You'll hold only my hand,

Untill then I fight the cunning sand

Which riddles my mind...

... with ill placed doubts